


Off In To The Sky

by GotTheSilver



Series: domestic!verse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 02:39:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5810398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>birthday fic in the domestic!verse</p><p>*</p><p>
  <i>Dean walks over to Cas, pressing a kiss against his mouth and stealing his mug of coffee.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“There’s a mug for you on the table,” Cas says, trying to grab his mug back.  “Dean!”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“It’s my birthday,” Dean says, grinning around the edges of Cas’ mug.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Off In To The Sky

**Author's Note:**

> I guess this is gonna become a little 'verse. probably necessary to read the first one to get a hint as to how they got to this place. set several years after that fic.
> 
> happy birthday dean winchester, I hope you get a decent future.

Dean wakes up slowly, winter sun almost blinding as it hits his eyes, and he squints against it, wondering where the hell Cas is this morning. If he strains his ears, he can hear clanking in the kitchen, the low register of Cas’ voice instructing Mary, Claire’s rebuttal comments, and Sam laughing at them all.

Waking up to the sound of his family in the house isn’t something Dean’s used to yet, and each morning he gets it, he has to take a moment to recognise what he has. Needs to take a moment to realise he doesn’t need to go for the knife under his pillow. That, now they have Mary, he doesn’t have a knife under his pillow; he has a locked gun safe in the bedside cabinet. Dean rubs his eyes, stretching his arms over his head and sighs, not entirely wanting to get out of bed.

There’s the thunder of little footsteps coming down the hall, and Dean rolls onto his stomach, hiding his smile in the pillow as Mary pushes the door open. “Daddy?”

Dean grunts, making a snoring noise as she climbs onto the bed.

“Daddy, you’re faking!”

“Am not.”

Mary pokes his shoulder, giggling to herself. “You’re awake, you are!”

Rolling over, Dean runs a hand through his hair and pulls Mary into his arms. “You’re too smart for me, angel.”

“I’m _really_ smart, Papa says I’m smarter than Uncle Sam.”

“Does he now? What does Uncle Sam say to that?”

“Uncle Sam said it’s pr’obly true,” she says with a solemn look on her face. “Happy Birthday, daddy.”

Dean kisses the top of Mary’s head. “Thank you, baby.”

“There’s food downstairs. And presents!”

“Oh really? Then I guess I’d better get out of bed or your Uncle Sam will eat everything.”

“Because he’s a giant?”

“That’s right, baby. Because he’s a giant.”

*

Robe tied firmly around him, Dean heads down the stairs to the kitchen, Mary dancing off in front of him. There’s a smell of pancakes, waffles, and bacon flowing through the house, and when Dean makes it to the kitchen, he’s greeted by most of the people he loves yelling “Happy Birthday,” at him.

“Okay, okay, jeez, you wanna give me a heart attack?” Dean walks over to Cas, pressing a kiss against his mouth and stealing his mug of coffee.

“There’s a mug for you on the table,” Cas says, trying to grab his mug back. “Dean!”

“It’s my birthday,” Dean says, grinning around the edges of Cas’ mug.

Sam and Claire roll their eyes at him in tandem and that’s a little terrifying. Ever since Claire decided to think about grad school while also hunting, she and Sam have spent more time together, and up until now, Dean thought it was a good idea. He gets that spending time with Cas is hard for her, and while Claire doesn’t hate Dean, it’s a basic fact now that where Dean is, Cas also is. Besides, Sam’s a lot closer to town, and still lives that life. Dean and Cas both feel better knowing Claire has someone watching out for her.

Claire smirks at him. “So, old man—”

“Hey,” Dean interjects. “Enough of that.”

“You’re forty, Dean,” Claire says, as if she can’t imagine being forty.

Dean remembers feeling like that. Remembers thinking he wouldn’t even make thirty, let alone forty. “Doesn’t mean I’m old.”

“Hate to break it to you,” Sam says, reaching for the plate of waffles set out on the counter. “But in this life? That makes you old.”

Dean shakes his head, turning to watch Mary picking out blueberries from the punnet Cas has pulled out of the fridge. “I’m not exactly in the life anymore, Sam.” Tearing his gaze away from his daughter, Dean refills Cas’ mug and walks over to the table, sitting down with Sam. “Things going okay with that?”

“Mostly quiet,” Sam says, glancing over at Claire as she makes her way to the table. “Few salt and burns, a vamp made itself known a couple months ago, but nothing really awful.”

“That vamp was nasty as hell,” Claire says with a frown. “Almost ruined my favourite knife.”

Cas leans over Dean, putting a plate stacked full of pancakes and bacon in front of him. “Happy Birthday.”

“C’mere,” Dean says, reaching up and pulling Cas down into a kiss. Cas tastes like coffee and blueberries, and Dean revels in how normal this is. Sure, his husband is still technically a celestial wavelength, but they have a house, a daughter, and he’s got a life that he never thought he’d have. Pulling away with a smile, Dean smiles at Cas. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Cas says, stealing his mug back.

“Can we eat now?” Mary asks, tugging at Dean’s elbow.

Sam laughs, his juice glass shaking in his hand. “Like fathers, like daughter.”

“I thought this was my birthday, not gang up on Dean day,” Dean grumbles, pouring maple syrup over his pancakes.

“Of _course_ it’s your birthday, daddy,” Mary says, clambering into her chair and smiling at Sam when he puts a waffle on her plate. “Can I have the blue’bries?” Cas passes them to her and Mary gets busy smooshing a blueberry into each little square. She seems to sense them looking at her and looks up, blueberry juice all over her hands. “What?”

“Nothing, baby,” Dean says, hiding a smile behind his mug. “Eat your food.”

“Krissy says she would’ve come, but she’s being blasted by school,” Claire says. “And Jody couldn’t get time off.”

“They good?”

“Uh huh.”

Dean waits for Claire to elaborate, shaking his head when he realises she’s not going to. “I thought you grew out of the moody teenager thing?”

“If there was anything to tell, I’d tell you. And I’m not moody.”

“Charlie will be here next weekend,” Cas interrupts. “She’s getting ready for Wizard World.”

“Auntie Charlie knows wizards?” Mary asks, her eyes wide, a bit of waffle stuck to her cheek.

“It’s a convention,” Sam says, reaching over and plucking the waffle from her skin. “She hangs out with her friends there.”

“But does she know real wizards?”

“No, Mary, Auntie Charlie doesn’t know wizards.”

Mary sighs and turns her attention back to her food. “Boring.”

Dean snorts, chewing on a mouthful of bacon. The sun is casting a bright glow through the room; everyone’s eating and smiling; Cas has a hand on Dean’s thigh, sliding under his robe, and Dean’s not sure he’s had a better birthday before. Turning his head, Dean noses against Cas’ cheek. “You do realise our daughter is at the table?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Cas whispers back. “I do know that Sam and Claire said they’d take Mary out to play after breakfast.”

“Happy Birthday to me,” Dean says with a grin, spearing a section of pancake with his fork.

*

Sam, Claire, and Mary are barely out of the door before Dean is running up the stairs after Cas, ignoring the now permanent twinge in his left knee. By the time he makes it to the bedroom, Cas is already half naked and shoving his pj pants down. Dean pauses in the doorway, drinking in the sight of Cas in all his glory before him.

“Dean,” Cas says, standing there with his hands on his hips. “Are you going to get naked any time soon?”

“It’s my birthday,” Dean says. “I’m appreciating my present.”

“Sex is not your present,” Cas says, walking over and tugging at the length of fabric holding Dean’s robe closed. “You’ll get your present later.”

“You’re my present. Every day.”

Cas’ face softens as he takes a step towards Dean. “ _Dean_ —”

Dean cuts Cas off with a kiss, cupping the back of his head and sliding his other hand over Cas’ skin until he can grab a greedy handful of Cas’ ass. Walking Cas backwards until they hit the bed, Dean pulls away, resting their foreheads together. “Get on the bed, Cas.”

When this first started, it was desperation; needing to cling to each other to make it through the darkest of times; trying to find a moment or two of pleasure in the midst of utter horror. Now, it’s so much more. They can still go hot and heavy when they want, but now Dean can kiss his way down Cas’ spine; can take his time to work him open; get him close to the edge and then back away. Cas curses him out, and that never fails to get Dean hot. He rolls Cas onto his back, covering him with his own body and capturing his mouth in a fierce kiss.

They never had time for this, before. Couldn’t stop and make out just because they felt like it, because even though fucking Cas is one of Dean’s favourite things to do, there’s nothing like the sounds Cas makes when they’re kissing.

Cas laughs when Dean loses the lube and has to half throw himself across the bed to find it. Dean sits in the middle of the bed, a mostly empty tube of lube in his hand, a hysterical husband who is laughing so hard he’s crying, and shakes his head.

“Are you done?” Dean asks, a hint of amusement in his voice as he waits for Cas to pull himself together. “Can we have sex now?”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas says, leaning in and pressing his mouth against Dean’s in a long, slow kiss. “We can have sex now.”

After all these years, it’s easy with Cas. Not boring—never boring—but Dean knows Cas, knows he can trust him with each part of himself and not be in danger of that coming back on him. Cas stares up at him, trust written over his face as Dean pushes inside him, hooks his leg up to get deeper; Dean never breaks his gaze, doesn’t want to ever look away from Cas when they’re like this. Watching Cas fall apart underneath him, as much through soft words and gentle kisses as anything else, is one of the best parts of having Cas in his life. It doesn’t take long until Cas is coming, gasping into Dean’s mouth, and it’s only a few more thrusts before Dean’s joining him, vision whiting out as he collapses on top of Cas.

The next thing Dean’s aware of is Cas kissing the side of his head, and he pushes himself up to meet Cas in a kiss. “I love you,” he says, swiping his tongue over Cas’ bottom lip and smiling. Pulling out of Cas, Dean rolls onto his back, tugging at Cas until he’s tucked up underneath Dean’s arm.

“We’re going to need a shower,” Cas says, his fingers trailing along Dean’s chest.

“Cas, it’s my birthday, if I wanna lay here with you after fucking, then that’s what I’m going to do.”

“You’re very demanding on your birthday.”

“Damn straight.”

*

By the time Sam calls to say they’re on their way back, they’re showered, dressed, and curled up on the couch in the cinema room watching a Zeppelin concert. Dean’s got his head in Cas’ lap, and there’s an empty pie dish on the table.

“What’s the plan for the rest of the day?” Dean asks, half asleep from the way Cas has been running his fingers through Dean’s hair.

“Presents. Movies. Dinner.”

“Sounds peaceful,” Dean says with a yawn, rubbing the side of his face against Cas’ thigh. “I like it.”

“You deserve it.”

Reaching up, Dean catches one of Cas’ hands and brings it down to his mouth, pressing a closed mouth kiss over Cas’ knuckles. “You too.”

“Happy Birthday, Dean.”

Dean smiles to himself, closing his eyes as Cas resumes stroking his hair. “Love you, Cas,” he says, starting to doze off.

*

Dean’s woken up by Mary jumping on him, Claire and Sam laughing at him from the doorway. They all pile in the room, put Back to The Future on the screen, and Dean starts unwrapping presents. Dean never imagined what his fortieth birthday would be like—assumed he’d be in ground before that day ever came—but this is close to perfect for him. Leaning into Cas, he rests his head against Cas’ shoulder, squeezing his hand. “Thank you,” he says quietly, not wanting to disturb Mary’s viewing of the movie, Sam patiently explaining things to her when she asks.

“For what?”

“For everything.”


End file.
